It's hard to find divinity when you're the king of men.
Working on that Riley/Remy/Peggy fic. Somehow managing to work on "Closing Time" and "Stolen Tarts: Sibling Rivalry" at the same time while also working on a favour for Katt.
Have spent the last week throwing up more than I'd care to admit, fighting off lightning headaches, and ignoring back pain. Have also been working almost every day.
Please don't ( Read more... )
Have spent the last week throwing up more than I'd care to admit, fighting off lightning headaches, and ignoring back pain. Have also been working almost every day.
Please don't ( Read more... )
Fury looked unimpressed. It took a trained eye to catch this; the man might have had the emotional range of a teaspoon, but it was a range, however small.
"Is there a problem, Coulson?"
"There was a thing there a little while back."
He nodded.
"Which is exactly why I'm sending you."
Phil Coulson failed to follow this logic, but he fingered the car keys in his pocket nonetheless.
***
Parking his car, Coulson took off his sunglasses and looked at the Mansion in front of him before putting them back on.
It was a given that there would not be a warm welcome waiting for him. The last time he'd visited, the staff was recovering from the loss of the Professor, as well as both Scott Summers and Jean Grey.
That had ended...poorly. While there had been no real collateral damage, that poor fountain would never be the same.
Pulling at the cuffs of his jacket, he got out of the car and walked up the way to knock on the door.
The man known as Wolverine -- or Logan, or James, depending on who you asked; Coulson was chatting with Department H of the Canadian Government about that, and whoever said that Canadians were polite had obviously not dealt with Alpha Flight before -- answered the door. Wolverine stepped aside, though it was more a surprised recoil than anything.
"You got a shitload of nerve showing up here."
Coulson entered the Mansion anyways, noting his surroundings.
Lamp.
(Rip off the lampshade. Use base for blunt force trauma.)
Ororo Munroe, alias Storm, current head of Xavier's Academy, appeared shortly.
"Agent Coulson," she said coolly. "You should join me in my office."
She shot Wolverine a glare, and was met with one in return. It was Wolverine who backed off first. Interesting.
Coulson nodded.
"After you, Miss Munroe."
***
They walked through the halls, Coulson's eyes moving rapidly right and left behind his sunglasses.
Bookshelf.
(Yank it down to create barrier or shield. Use thicker hardcovers as projectiles.)
Curtains.
(Distraction. Cover opponent to buy time for next move.)
They arrived at the office in a matter of minutes, no words having been exchanged.
After closing the door behind her, Ororo took a seat behind the desk.
(Kick it towards target to pin them. Pens sitting on it can serve as potential shivs.)
"What brings you to Xavier's?" she asked.
Coulson stood behind the basic wooden chair offered to him, resting his hands on its back.
(Throw it. Alternatively, smashing of chair on ground creates multiple wooden stakes.)
"I'm here to discuss the Avengers initiative."
Ororo raised an eyebrow.
He continued. "S.H.I.E.L.D. determined that as mutants, and as a paramilitary metahuman organization, you ought to be informed that we are organizing a similar team, albeit with a different mandate."
Ororo appeared to consider this for a moment.
"Please, sit down. It seems we have much to discuss."
His grip on the chair tightened. "I'd rather stand, thank you."
***
"How'd it go?" Clint asked, leaning against the front entrance of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. He was dressed in his black fatigues, obviously fresh from a sparring session. Based on the bruises on Clint's arms, Coulson's money was on one with Natasha in which he had been thoroughly trounced.
"If it was your concern, Barton, I'd tell you."
"Good luck with Fury," he smiled, rather gratingly.
Belt, Coulson realized.
(Garotte.)
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
(This one, for the record, was my favourite to write. Mainly because I am in love with Coulson.)
Reply
I can bribe you with drabbles.
Reply
I...
I may be open to accepting bribes. *hangs head in easily-bought shame*
Reply
Reply
Alternatively:
Darcy totally knows CPR. She also now knows one Clint Barton.
Reply
"I'm just saying, I don't appreciate a wet spot on the communal couch! Not even when it's my wet spot," said Tony Stark. He still wore the bottom half of his Iron Man costume as he paced because why not?
"Fuck you, I was doing CPR," said Darcy. Darcy. Oh, Darcy. Phil could not possibly have found a creature more in love with creating searchable, cross-referenced databases if he had cloned himself but he really wished she had even an iota of professionalism. Then again, he himself didn't grow an iota of professionalism until That Time in That Place A While Back.
"I had no idea CPR involved tongue and cooch."
"That's out of line, Tony." Steve butted in. To be fair, he'd maintained his cool until this point. You could cryogenically preserve the man out of the 40's but you couldn't take the 40's out of the man.
"Fuck you, Stark," was Clint's erudite offering into the whole debacle.
"Thought you were interested in Darcy."
Steve straightened to him impressive six-foot-three height, Clint produced an arrow out of nowhere, Tony's boot repulsors whined, and Phil had a lovely fantasy involving a heap of grilled cheese sandwiches, a box of porter, and hostage retrieval in Eastern Europe circa late 90's. But no, he was at Stark Tower-- now SHIELD Tower-- herding super-powered cats.
Just as he'd found a solution involving the throw rug, a half-full mug of coffee, and beer nuts, Tony went into a full-body spasm. He let out an "Erp!" and fell face-first. Or he would have, if his iron pants were activated and thus capable of movement. His partial fall revealed Darcy clutching her (new) Stark Tech taser.
They all stared at Tony, out-cold, his upper-body limp but his lower body held upright by the armour. "Wow. He's bendy."
Clint bent his knees to take a closer look. "Y'know, at this angle, he could totally suck his own dick."
"Clint!" Steve's entire face was red.
Phil sensed another fight on the horizon. "I'll take care of Mr. Stark. Now, I believe everyone has somewhere else--"
"HO! FRIENDS!" Thor strode in with Jane at his side. "DO WE FEAST AS ARMS-BROTHERS THIS EVE?!"
Clint shook his head. "Probably not since Darcy tased our bank account and Coulson's eyes are doing that buggy thing."
Everyone winced. Buggy thing? Phil's eyes never did any buggy thing. He resisted the urge to put his shades on.
"Tony, Darcy, and Clint had small tiff about personal space," Steve explained.
"I was TOTALLY demonstrating CPR to Clint," said Darcy. "Then Herpes McDrunktard over there just wouldn't shut up about boobs and wet spots."
"WET SPOTS?" Thor glanced at the couch. "OH! YOU SPEAK OF THE PASSIONATE REMNANTS OF LOVE! FORGIVE US, FRIEND DARCY. WE SHALL BE MORE CIRCUMSPECT IN THE FUTURE."
"Could've started five seconds ago," said Jane, now equally red as Steve.
On second thought, Phil could actually feel his eyes bugging. "Everyone. Out. I don't care if you have to capture double-parkers, just get out of my tower."
"Technically, it's Tony's--"
"Out!"
"Yes boss!" She pulled on Clint and Steve's hands. Thor followed, sheepishly rubbing at his neck while Jane hissed at him. Tony... well, Tony was still out cold and looking like a piece of post-modern art.
So, y'know, things were looking up.
Reply
Leave a comment